


The White Widow

by KelonyBarstowe, pattems



Category: Exalted (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gaslighting, Implied Sexual Content, Love/Hate, Lunar Exalted, Mad Sorcery, Magma Kraken - Freeform, Married Couple, Physical Abuse, Reincarnation, Shapeshifting, So many murders, Solars Are Assholes, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelonyBarstowe/pseuds/KelonyBarstowe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pattems/pseuds/pattems
Summary: A Lunar Exalt, who has gone by many names over the thousands of years of her existence, recalls with remarkable clarity the history of her relationship with her Solar Mate. He is a powerful sorcerer who devotes his life to the pursuit of a solution to the problem of reincarnation, supposedly solely for the love of his wife and a desire to be more perfectly united with her throughout their lives. As is often the case, the best laid plans of Solars go terribly awry, and the couple descend into a terrible cycle of abuse and supernatural manipulation.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Introduction

She wore the white of mourning, dress tattered and stained from the violence of her capture, boots gone missing sometime between that fight and when she awoke in chains. It was hard to know if she had been in this particular cell before, there had been so many jails over the years. From the fog of a millennia and a half of memory she tried to recall exactly who was holding her this time, as if it mattered. She was alone, and the chains might hold her in this form, but they couldn’t stop her from smashing her hand to pieces, from wrapping the links around her neck. She’d reincarnate in another body, try again. She had no other choices. Death hardly scared her after all this time.

The door to her left opened with a slight creak, and a willowy woman in grey entered. The sorceress and the sorcerer's wife spoke in hushed tones, neither one wishing to call the attention of the guards without.

“I can’t destroy what he did to you,” said the woman in gray as her spell took hold. “But that will be enough to buy you some time on your next reincarnation. Find your circle mates. They can do the rest. They’ve been waiting for you to come home.”

“My home is with my husband.”

“How long has it been since that man treated you as a husband should his wife?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [The Way by Zack Hemsey](https://open.spotify.com/track/3JnQth6rdt2s9PXtHQMW1E)


	2. Sun and Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Promises Are Made and Things Are Set Into Motion

The invitation was meant to be a formality, if everyone were to be perfectly honest about the matter. His Radiance, Shallow Heart, Lord of the White Sea, Chosen of the Unconquered Sun was far too important to leave off any guest list within his realm, and while it was known that his companion Plum Blossom Breeze could be found from time to time among the people, it was still a shock when they arrived at the wedding. Guests fell to their knees, averting their eyes and fervently chanting prayers of blessing and peace.

“Love, shouldn’t you do something?” Plum Blossom nudged her partner lightly with her elbow, trying not to crack a grin in front of an audience.

“Oh, can’t I enjoy this for a minute before I tell them to get up?” He asked quietly so that only Plum could hear.

“Like you don’t get enough of this already.” She kissed his cheek and nodded to the prostrated crowd.

“Do any of us ever?” he asked dryly before raising his voice to address the crowd. “Do get up, we’re here to celebrate the same as the rest of you.”

“Blessings and peace be upon the happy couple and their honored guests,” Plum added a little more formally. “Now please, rise and be at comfort.”

Seemingly satisfied, the guests picked themselves up and went back to the business of finding seating and catching up with friends and rivals. The exalted couple were given a respectful berth, and greeted with the utmost deference, but were otherwise unremarkable in the colorful menagerie. He wore gold trimmed with deep purple, she was all in flowing pastel plum with darker violet flowers embroidered up and down the light silk and along the hem of her long sheer scarf. She had insisted that they dress to fit in.

Slowly the ushers herded them towards the garden where the ceremony would take place. Hundreds of chairs were arranged before the ornate canopied altar place, where Kethri Nemanchyo clutched a bouquet and restrained herself from pacing.

The mandap had four pillars aligned with the elemental poles, each capped with gleaming jade in the appropriate white, green, red, and blue shades and draped with fine silks and flowers. Fine chains of orichalcum and moonsilver reached from each pillar to the center, where a floral-patterned lantern expertly carved from black jade hung. Below, a flaming altar took up the center space.

The bride awaited her groom wearing lucky red, trimmed with gold and heavily embroidered with scenes of the elemental dragons and the seals of her own house and the house of her groom, intertwined as their lives would be in the years to come. Her long dark hair was braided and pinned, decorated ornately with flowers and pearls and carved jade amulets. Her face hidden behind a beaded veil of rubies. Her attendants waited nearby, dressed in white and cursing the groom and his family for stealing away their friend. Some of them even managed to do so without cracking up laughing.

“Are they supposed to be doing that?” Shallow Heart asked as he took a seat in the back row.

“They’re in mock mourning, started cropping up about a century ago,” Plum whispered back. “They seem to enjoy it.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to one of these. Anything else that’s cropped up I should be aware of?”

“Just wait, it’ll be fun.”

With a cacophony of noise, the groom’s procession approached the wedding. Bells and gongs and shouting voices could be heard from blocks away, as the priest led the raucous retinue through the streets. Carried in a curtained divan, Duke Derasu Biska was jostled and nearly dropped a dozen times by his closest friends and companions.

“No ill omens will our man see, a happy married man he’ll be!” they chanted, loud and out of sync. 

All seemed well in hand, if loud, until they reached the garden and the priest noticed the couple sitting in the back row. He gasped, clutching at the holy pendant at his neck, a shallow heart etched in a golden sun. The entire procession ground to a halt as he fell to his knees at the feet of his god.

“To your feet, priest, we’re here for a show you can’t give us grovelling, the same as the rest,” Heart said, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yes, of course your Radiance,” the priest fawned, bowing several times as he got up from his knees.

“What is it? A bad omen?” the groom called out from behind the curtains.

“No, my duke! A great blessing indeed!” The priest finally pulled his eyes away and the procession continued, each man bowing deeply as they passed the row where Shallow Heart sat bemused.

“You know, this would happen less if you didn’t insist on having so many statues made.”

“You keep acting like I don’t enjoy this,” he shot back with a grin. She took his hand possessively and returned the smile, and they settled in with the rest to watch the ceremony unfold.

* * *

It was a long and complex ritual, with many different rites cobbled together from older traditions. After the mourners had been carried off by the groom’s retinue, the couple recited their litanies of ancestors, poured offerings of rice through each other's hands into the fire altar, lit the candle with two ends. The priest droned on, invoking every small god in the region to bless and honor the marriage of the duke. Much of it would be forgotten as soon as the moment passed, but it was a formality that needed to be seen to. But the moment when the Duke parted his bride’s veil, the wide smile that lit her face when she met his eyes, the smile he returned her. That would stay burned into their memory forever.

As the ceremony was drawing to a close, the priest's eyes alighted on Shallow Heart and Plum. “Your Radiance, if I may, would you and your Beloved be willing to bless this union?” All eyes turned toward the back of the audience, the bride and groom holding their hands anxiously. “Just a few words to the couple?”  
Plum Blossom looked to her mate, practically jumping out of her seat already but not wanting to answer for him.

He savored the moment before standing in answer. “It would be our pleasure to.”

“I invoke the Unconquered Sun in his Radiant Palace to look kindly upon this union, and grant the Duke and his Lady many a fruitful and prosperous season.”

“I invoke Shifting Luna to watch over this union, and grant the Duke and his Lady the grace to weather all life’s changes.” 

Plum stepped forward, taking the bride’s hand and whispering softly in her ear. “Think of your husband first in all things.”

Heart, not having prepared for any of this, was lost in a moment looking at the woman he loved, and the hope in the young bride’s eyes. When he took the Duke’s ear, the words nearly fell out without a thought. “Never let her go.”

The formal celebration concluded, with much applause and a kiss shared between the Duke and his Lady. The revelers slowly made their way to the reception hall for the feast and merrymaking that would take up the rest of the evening, and for some of the guests likely the next few days.

While even the priest and the happy couple were swamped with well wishers and people bustling back and forth, Plum Blossom and Shallow Heart found the crowds splitting neatly before them, with only the occasional person approaching the couple for a modest blessing or — more often — to thank the lady for her services as a midwife and a teacher of healers. It was no challenge for them to find a quiet spot near a table to watch the band play and the people mingle. 

“Heart?” A familiar voice called across the hall, as the crowd parted as a figure walked towards the happy couple. “Ah, Heart, that is you!” the man said, clapping his friend hard on the back. “What’re you doing slumming it up at a thing like this?”

“Ravenous Sunrise, you old dog,” Shallow Heart clasped his fellow solar by the hand and pulled him in for a quick embrace. “I might ask you the same.” 

Sunrise grinned conspiratorially before answering. “Oh, I imagine the same reasons you are: free dinner, and all the pretty bridesmaids done up and in dire need of someone to undo them…”

Plum scowled at the other Solar, who seemed to take notice of her for the first time. “Come now, all these easy pickings and you bring your mate? Really Heart, she seems nice enough, but you can’t tell me you don’t get bored.”

Before he could reply, Plum smiled tautly and turned to walk away from the pair of men. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

“On second thought,” Sunrise hedged, openly leering at the Lunar as she left, “with an ass like that I can see how a man might not get bored after all. Maybe you’d loan her to me for a roll in the hay sometime, old friend?”

Heart’s fist tightened as he turned on the other man. “That’s quite enough, Sunrise, now you’re just being unseemly.”

The other man snorted. “Unseemly? If you say so.”

“I do. That’s my mate you’re talking about. It’s different and you know it.”

“Of course, of course, forget I said anything.” Sunrise placated. “Now, give me your advice,” he added, changing the subject and pointing to one of the bridesmaids standing with another woman, “Her, or her friend?”

“Both, obviously.” 

“Well then,” Sunrise said with a wolfish grin as he walked away, “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to attend to.”

* * *

“It’ll be fun!” After a feast and a round of toasts and well-wishes that seemed to go on forever, the formal dancing had begun. Shallow Heart had his private doubts as his mate took his hand and half lead, half dragged him to the dance floor, but allowed himself to be led all the same. He couldn’t hardly say no to a simple thing that would make her happy.

The men took their places on one side, women on the other. She positioned herself opposite him, happily jostling with the other ladies as if she’d been born in their town. The men gave him a far wider berth, until Ravenous Sunrise found him in the gap and planted himself next to the only other solar in the room.

“Do you know this one?”

“Haven’t learned a dance in a century.”

“Oh, this’ll be great.” Sunrise winked at the unlucky lass across from him, and she smiled back nervously.

The music started, and Heart found himself nearly stubling, trying to keep up with the steps. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy, plenty of the other men and women were unfamiliar or clumsy enough to trip themselves or their partners up, but he could not bring himself to watch the men around him to pick up the cues. He was too caught up in watching Plum, as she twirled and swayed, eyes twinkling as she wagged her finger at him - part of the choreography, he realized belatedly.

It was another two hours before he got his revenge. During a lull Plum Blossom found herself unexpectedly dragged away from a conversation without a word. Heart wrapped his arm around her and took her out onto the emptying dance floor, couples wandering back to the edges as the silence weighed on the party.

“What are you doing?”

“I may have made a request of the band.” Catching the singer’s eye, he nodded, and a very different tune began to play. Her eyes lit up with recognition.

They swung across the floor, all grace, never taking their eyes off one another. They shone like the sun and moon, and all the stars in the sky could do nothing but look on in envy.

After the dancing, the drinking, the feasting, the prayers, and the exchanges of gifts, long after the sun had gone down and the moon was high and shining, after the bride and groom had left to see to their own matters, the celestial exalts finally made their own exit. Other revellers were still at it, singing badly and sharing bawdy stories by the fireside. A servant brought the gaudily decorated mammoth out from the yard by the stables, where it had spent the day contentedly munching grass with the howdah still mounted.

“Pumpkin!” Plum wrapped her arms around the animal’s furry trunk, a little tipsy. Her pet returned the embrace.

“You are ridiculous, love.”

“You’re just jealous,” Plum joked back, reaching into elsewhere and producing a small orange gourd to feed her pet.

Heart rubbed his temples. “I just think it’s silly to spoil the howdah.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s being a grump,” she said to the mammoth. “Now, down please.” Pumpkin kneeled obediently and picked Plum up with his trunk, placing her neatly in the bed of the howdah. “See, if you were nicer to him you wouldn’t have to climb up!” 

Heart climbed into the howdah without further comment, knowing there was no point in continuing the discussion. Plum would continue to spoil the beast despite his protests, and at the end of the day it was a harmless thing that made her happy.

She curled up close to him, head on his shoulder, as the beast stood carefully and began the long walk home. Plum Blossom found her mate’s hand and laced her fingers between his, sighing in contentment. “I’m glad you agreed to come.” 

“Of course, dear. Anything for you.” He leaned his head down to rest on hers, taking in the view of the countryside under the night sky. “You know, we’ve never made those promises to each other.”

"What? Are you proposing to me?"

"I most certainly am." He kissed her hand.

“But, we’re bonded,” she asked more than said, her brow furrowing in confusion even as her smile held. “You know I’ll always be here for you. Even if death should part us, I’ll always come back.”

“I know, but I love you,” he said. “And you should know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Sun and Moon by Soname](https://open.spotify.com/track/71yuAijjzoXFYagToh4o8H?si=buMVkauTQxmFxd1_-3Ahng)


	3. Anything For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Our Heroine Agrees to a Very Bad Idea

“I have a plan.” Shallow Heart said, wild eyed and unkempt from his long nights in the laboratory. He had been absent from their quarters for weeks on end, taking his meals privately as he worked.

Plum looked up from her writing and rose to meet him as he rushed across the room to her. “A plan for what?”

“For me, for us! In a way, I never would have thought of it without you.” He swept his wife up in his arms and spun her around before gently setting her back down.

“You’re being ridiculous, just tell me,” she chided her husband gently.

“You remember, when I said we should get married and you said you’d just find me again if you died?”

“Of course,” she said, disquieted. “And I hope you know I meant it.”

“That’s the thing, though, you wouldn’t come back, not as you are.” He was speaking rapidly, barely pausing between words much less for breath. “The exaltation comes back weakened, you see? The new incarnation has only few memories, and almost none of the essence of its former self.” 

“It’s still more than most get, love,” she soothed, pressing a hand lightly against his arm. 

“It’s not enough!” he exclaimed as he grabbed her by the shoulders. “I won’t lose you like that. I can fix it.”

“Let me fix you some tea first, and then you can tell me the whole idea.”

He talked and she listened, asking questions about the finer points of the manipulation of essence, coaxing the whole thought out as the day turned into night and her initial skepticism faded. “You’re right, I think it could work.”

“It will take experimentation. No one has ever tried anything like it before.”

“I’m sure you’ll succeed in the end,” she said with a tired smile.

“What worries me isn’t the end, it’s the process. Whoever we did this on, there’s no guarantee the first few incarnations would be right. And… the only way to test it….”

“I’ll do it.” She said firmly.

“What? No.” he looked at her with naked horror in his eyes at the thought. “That’s out of the question. I won’t let you!”

“You can’t do it to yourself, you might forget your progress. You can’t ask your allies to do it, you need their protection so you can concentrate on this, and if you do it to your enemies they’ll learn what you’re doing,” she laid out her points with meticulous clarity, leaving no room for argument. A habit she had learned from her practice, and perfected with her sometimes flighty spouse. “It’s the only sensible choice.”

“Did you forget that I love you and I don’t want to lose you?” He reached out to take her hand in his without looking, without needing to look. Her body was as familiar to him as his own, as a home he’d lived in all his life. She was always there, would always be there. They had promised each other.

“You won’t lose me.” She squeezed his hand tight.

“I couldn’t bear it.” 

You won’t have to. I trust you.” 

He stroked her cheek affectionately and she turned her head slightly to kiss the base of his thumb. “I suppose all I can do is work to be worthy of that trust, then.” 

* * *

The details of the ritual, the memory of the event itself along with any further discussion they’d had, those all were lost. If she had served as his research assistant, if she had set the candles, brought him the chalk and salt, laid down the runes, assisted in the incantations, there was no trace. She remembered standing in the dark with him, the flickering candlelight reflected in his dark eyes. 

“I love you,” she said, with all the sincerity in Creation.

“I’ll see you soon, darling.” There was a flash of light along the blade of his orichalcum dagger, and then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [If You Care by Evan Barlow](https://open.spotify.com/track/5MhSnh0osDXHrksDThnFhN?si=9pfxga35T3W-kbBSII27hA)


	4. Awake With The Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Prayers Are Answered

Emerald Aurora Sky had a very literal father who loved to tell the story of her naming, how she had waited for the dead of night to be born under the brightest green lights they had seen in a generation, just as the midwife had predicted on her first quickening. The sky was emerald again the night she received Luna’s blessing.

The great flying beast came out of the east, its leathery wings the color of the forests and wide across as three houses. With long beak and sharp talon it snatched up villagers, making midair snacks of some and unceremoniously dropping others screaming from terrible heights. She was at the temple praying with the other young women, watching the incense burn like their lives depended on it. It wasn’t enough. 

Talons snatched the edge of the temple roof, pulling away the stout beams and raining down clay shingles. She wanted to run, knew she should run, but the village could not fight this thing alone. Only the gods could save them, and they would not come without prayer. She knelt in the chaos, eyes tight shut, the sound of her desperate litany lost in the noise as the others ran and screamed, in the screeching of the monster above. 

The light flashed bright enough to see through her lids, silver and strong and terrifying. Her eyes snapped open, muscles acting of their own volition. The light was hers, was Luna’s gift to her. She ran to the armory, knowing the bows there would never be enough in mortal hands, but maybe in hers. The beast wheeled around tracking her, the silver blaze of her banner acting as a beacon in the night. Good. Her hand wrapped around a bow, her arm looped through a quivver, and light as a bird she backflipped onto the roof of the shed, knocking the arrow in flight. The monster bore down on her, and with a blast of essence she let fly through its heart.

The feast went late into the night, the elders honoring her for her bravery and Luna for blessing their village with a hero to save it. For the first time she took her place at the great table, drank with the chief and his sons and daughters. Even when the bonfire glow subsided, the light seemed to follow her everywhere. They collected the dead and laid them out, but the preparations for the funerals could wait. Tonight was for dancing, and they did so long after their beds should have called them away. One by one, though, sleep claimed the revellers, until Emerald herself was the only one awake. She couldn’t say why, but there was something telling her to wait for the sun.

When it rose, when the first light of dawn kissed her forehead, she remembered everything. She was gone when the others struggled awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Farewell, Hero performed by Tan Dun, Kodo, and the China Philharmonic Orchestra](https://open.spotify.com/track/7BnBmSEXEPHSVy1qqCLDeA?si=yD0HlPhyRiaB3EfwqKeFTA)


	5. This Is Not My Beautiful Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Our Heroine Is Not Entirely Herself

There was really no need for Emerald Aurora Sky to attend births in person anymore. She had done well teaching the local networks of midwives, and they performed the task ably. There was a part of her that still from time to time wanted to get her hands dirty, in both the figurative and the literal sense. While the bulk of the cleanup had been done on site, and her apron had handled much of the worst of it, she still needed a change and a long soak when she returned home. It was at once strange and familiar, having access to all the trappings of the lords of Creation whenever she wanted. Just a few months ago she was a poor girl in a village with no name, worrying about bull mammoths trying to raid their stock of liquor again. Now she had one as a pet.

She stepped into the study, still toweling down her damp hair. “Sorry that took so long. That golden eagle I picked up on the way here isn’t nearly as good as my old one, I’m not sure if there’s something off with the pinion feathers or what.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, dear.” Heart responded distractedly, not looking up from his book for several moments until he processed what his wife had said. “Wait, you had to pick up your bird form again?” 

“Yes,” she responded, alarmed by her husband’s sudden concern. “Why?”

“You shouldn’t have had to. You shouldn’t have lost anything!” He threw the book he’d been reading across the study, and it hit the wall with a thud before falling limply to the floor. “We did everything right! Damn the gods, this _shouldn’t_ have happened!”

Emerald resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the tantrum. “You knew it wouldn’t be perfect the first time. We’ll just have to try again.”

“No! No we can’t try again!” His tone was nearing panic. “What if I lose more of you? What if we can’t get you back?”

She shook her head gently, keeping her composure even as he lost his. “There are going to be little differences. I lived a whole life before I received this blessing you know. I actually,” she chuckled softly. “This is silly, but I can remember when we got married from both perspectives.”

“You were at the wedding?” He stared at her incredulously. “This you?”

“No, I heard about it but only the village elders went.” She looked off in the middle distance, lost in two conflicting sets of memories. “It's so strange, I can remember when the crier came to announce it, and I can remember when we sent those announcements out.”

“You shouldn’t. That’s not a little difference, Plum.”

“Emerald,” she corrected him quickly, and not for the first time.

“What, you want me to keep changing what I call you?”

“You can’t possibly want me to change my name to who I used to be.”

“It should be who you still are, that’s what all of this was _for_! Tell me I didn’t kill my wife for nothing!” He lashed out at the table beside where he was sitting, knocking it to the floor and scattering it’s contents.

“Hon, no, it’s okay.” She rushed over to him, cradling his head close to her chest. “It’s okay, you didn’t kill me, I’m right here, it’s ok.”

The familiarity of the gesture calmed him somewhat, and he let her hold him. “It’s just - You don’t even look like her.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what she was apologizing for, what she could have done differently, she just wanted him to be happy. “But, I have the memories,” she looked down at him with eyes gray as storm clouds, desperate for approval. “That’s enough, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Ghosts by James Vincent McMorrow](https://open.spotify.com/track/6vyHUsb95k49gqRm589Ga9?si=2mArXxxGTNybFRhs3ise5Q)


	6. Repose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which a Happy Couple Enjoys a Quiet Moment

It had been a long, tiring day. The locals had been up to some flavor of nonsense and he’d had to put a stop to it before they affected the local trade routes, and of course his dear wife had to go tend to the wounded in their hospitals. It was silly, really, but that soft heart was one of the things he loved about her, that he always loved about her. It was remarkable how little had changed. How silly he’d been to worry.

Now she curled up beside him on the divan overlooking the fountain in their second-favorite home, resting her head against his shoulder. He buried his nose in her rose scented hair, still jet black as it had been before, but straighter now. He missed the curls. Maybe next time she would have them again. Her hand found his, fingers sliding comfortably between his like they’d belonged there from the beginning of time.

They laid together in comfortable silence for a time, using each other to keep warm against the slight cool breeze of the evening before they inevitably caved in and turned on the heat. 

“We missed you on the battlefield,” he said lazily. 

“No you didn’t.” She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “You did make quite a mess for me to clean up though.”

“Couldn’t be avoided, I’m afraid,” he replied, pulling his hand from her lips to stroke her hair.

“It’s alright, those hospitals are for teaching after all.”

“Well in that case,” he said, his grin wolfish, “I’m happy to be able to provide instructional material.”

“Let’s not have too many more opportunities, if we can avoid them.”

“Then how will your students learn, dear?”

She swatted his leg with her open palm, hard enough to make a loud crack but not to hurt. Heart grabbed her wrist before she could pull away and pinned it firmly to the pillow behind her head. The couple erupted in a tangle of limbs and squeals until he finally got her properly pinned beneath him, her dark hair splayed around her on the cushions, her breath heavy with the exertion.

“Okay, you win!” she laughed. He held her there a moment longer, admiring the view.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You always say that.”

“You always are.” He let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his embrace. They lay together in silence for a while longer, as the last rays of sunset dipped below the horizon.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Heart said, reluctantly dragging himself to the point. “I’ve been making some progress in the lab. We may be able to test the new methodology within the year.” It was important to get this right, but that didn’t make the thought of losing any more of his wife any easier to bear.

“That’s wonderful news.” she replied with an enthusiasm that gave him pause.

“You know what that means.”

“When you’re ready, I’ll have to go again, I know.” She craned her neck back and kissed him sweetly. “I’d die a thousand times for you, my love.”

He took her hand again, and even if the hand was different, it was still hers. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to all that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [...Slowly We Fell into Slumber and I Held You Until The End of Time by Ursine Vulpine](https://open.spotify.com/track/4FKWYJNZknGGBnidwNqKDs)


	7. I Just Got Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Our Heroine is Rudely Dispatched

Over the great forests of the East she traveled, remembering with ease the art of flight, of surviving on the land as one of its beasts. She left everything behind — carrying anything in this form would have been too hard, and everything she needed was where she was going. She had a whole life, a husband, a home, friends and allies, mansions and manses filled with servants and magical devices to meet her every need. What could she possibly bring there that mattered? 

The manse was as she left it, only a few months ago now. The cycles had gone faster this time. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been through as much before she had to come back. She alit on the back of a chair and shifted back to her human form, scooting forward and into the seat as her limbs returned to their normal length.

One of the servants bowed deeply to her, beginning her welcoming speech.

“White Falls, it’s me.”

“Mistress Karanj?”

Of course she wouldn’t recognize her. Another new face. “Seven Thunders now, but yes. Fetch my husband for me, will you?”

“Of course!”

The servant rushed off, returning shortly with Shallow Heart, and another Solar who’s face she didn’t recognize. “My Jewel,” he said, crossing to embrace her, pulling her out of the chair. “Did you have a good trip? I do believe this is record time. How long have you been yourself?”

Not waiting for an answer, he turned to the other man, letting her go. “See here, I told you I was making progress. It hasn’t been a season yet, and already she’s back.”

“The journey took a few weeks, I was deep in the East.” He’d asked her the question, so why did it feel like she was interrupting him by answering it?

“Marvelous,” the man with the strange face said with a smile, clapping his hands. He took a moment to look her over, “And such a pretty thing, too.”

“She always is,” Shallow Heart replied, before turning back to her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced?” She thought she’d remembered everything, but if this person was so important maybe he had been around before? It was unpleasant, being off her stride like this, but it would pass. Soon she would be back in her routine and settled, and they would be together, and it would really be forever, because whatever happened to her she knew she’d always come back. No half measures, no waiting forever for glimpses of the past, real continuity.

“An old friend with a new face. Surely you haven’t forgotten Ravenous Sunrise? Oh, I should say Ivory Tyrant, now. He’s still coming back to himself, unlike you. Perhaps he’ll have remembered enough of himself next time.”

Seven Thunders reeled, a thousand questions fighting for her attention at once. “You… you’ve been experimenting with... him?” 

“No,” Heart replied, touching his hand to her cheek. “Only with you, my love. Now, I am sorry, but I do have a bet to win.”

“What’s that?” She almost leaned up to kiss him, but there would be plenty of time for that when she could get him alone.

“I bet that you’d be back before a season, and here you are.” He punctuated the statement with a kiss to her hand and a broad smile. “Now this old fool’s gone and offered double on it being a fluke, and that even if you could do it once, you can’t do it again,” he kept up the same casual tone as he let go of her hand and brought both of his to her cheeks, cradling her head gently.

“I…” she stuttered, not wanting to connect the dots. “I just got here.”

He looked deep in her eyes, gods above he had the most beautiful dark eyes like a doe. She couldn’t look away. “You trust me, don’t you love?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then I’ll see you soon.”

She smiled meekly, trying to swallow down the tears threatening to break.

He leaned down and kissed her quickly, before standing straight and twisting his arms, snapping her neck and letting her body fall to the ground with an undignified thud. “See? No fear. She knows she’ll be back, and - just like you saw - fully herself when it happens.” 

“I don’t know about all that, she did look a little scared for a second,” his companion shot back.

“The dear is a little skittish, it’s true, but she could have run or fought back if she really didn’t trust the process. Besides, it took a while to perfect my technique. Regardless, you’ll have double your proof before Calibration, and I’ll have to find something to do with all this jade and starmetal you’ll owe me.”

White Falls brought out three more men to carry her body away, while the men kept talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift and The Civil Wars](https://open.spotify.com/track/0z9UVN8VBHJ9HdfYsOuuNf)


	8. Flowers and a Silver Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Our Heroine Returns Sooner Than Expected

She was still beautiful in death. The servants had arranged her body just so, washed and dressed her, placed the flowers around her and around the altar, so many flowers. Her widower demanded it. He wore the white of mourning, golden accents matching the orichalcum daggers he wore strictly for show. The mourners wailed and gnashed their teeth while he allowed a tear to fall down his perfect cheek. Just the right level of demonstration for a man of his station. 

The rest of his circle joined him, going through the motions. How many funerals was this now? At least a dozen. He could hardly blame them for their detachment, after all she would be back soon enough. The ceremony was more to nip in the bud any potential issues with hungry ghosts than processing true grief. He had perfected the art. There would be no need for real grief anymore, only this show. Maybe, when they had finished conquering the underworld and its denizens, there would be no need for this, either. A world without tears, that was something worth working for, worth dying for, as she had. It was nothing to be sad about.

The collar she wore was high and opaque, bunched up to hide the bruises and the break. He could still feel the crack under his fingers, see her bright blue eyes wide, smell the blood. What had she done this time, to drive him to that? He couldn’t seem to remember. The anger had passed like a bad dream, leaving little in its wake. 

Her packmates, the spouses of his circle, they were not so stoic as the others. He knew what they were thinking, the damnable treason in their hearts. They had the audacity to blame him for this, as if he’d taken something away from them! The fools couldn’t see how he’d saved her, for them as well. No more lost companions, she’d always come back. If they couldn’t appreciate that, maybe he’d have to do something about them as well.

The Lunars left, sniffling and glaring at him when they thought he wasn’t looking, arm in arm with their spouses. The hired mourners staying at their posts obediently until he should dismiss them. He flopped in a chair, content for the moment to watch them suffer for him. It would have been better if she was here, if he could put his hand on hers, if he could swing her around by the waist while the musicians played, if he could knock her head into the wall. It wasn’t fair he had to wait.

“The sniveling lot of you call that mourning, do you?” he asked the paid assemblage in an even tone, leveling eyes on the rabble before standing and taking a single step in their direction. 

“A thousand apologies, your radiance,” one of the women said, charcoal streaks streaming down her cheeks from the tears, eyes mournful and desperate. Some of the others redoubled their wailing, draping themselves melodramatically over the still body. She had made the mistake of looking him in the eye, though, and now she could not break away.

“Your apologies? Well then, that completely changes the way you lot made a mockery of my wife.” He smiled a cold smile, spitting the words with venom as he closed the distance between himself and the woman step by step, to tower over her. “Or did you intend to mock me?”

She said nothing, there was nothing she could say, not to him. The trembling of her lip took on a different look, all fear now, none of the feigned sadness. Her eyes, huge and dark, stared into his, pleading silently. Good enough. He grabbed her by the arm, tossing her easily across the courtyard. The other mourners took the opportunity to flee and he let them, this one would be enough for the night. He cracked his neck, shaking out the stiffness of too long standing still. This would be fun.

The girl was muttering softly to herself, still on the ground, long hair hiding her face. “Speak up,” he commanded, “and answer me. Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude not to answer your betters when they ask you a question? I suppose I’ll just have to teach you myself.” He cracked his knuckles as he crossed the courtyard to where she lay yammering certain idiocy to herself.

She didn’t answer him, didn’t look up. It would have been infuriating, if he’d actually cared about the slight in the first place. He grabbed her hair and pulled her to her knees, finally making out enough of the sound to parse it. The simpering little thing was praying.

If she’d been cursing him this might have been fun, but she was so pathetic all he could do was laugh. “You can stop with that nonsense, the gods here all answer to me.”

The light blazed to life in his face, blinding him momentarily. But no, that couldn’t be, it was too soon. The towering figure of a silver elk, her elk, dwarfed the courtyard, throwing everything in stark relief. Too stunned to respond, he stood there as she shifted to her warform and gored him with her antlers. There was no fear left in those eyes now, no love or recognition, only fury. She screamed, driving him into the paving stones, his own anima burning to life as he struggled to escape without hurting her.

“Dearest, it’s me!” he cried out, trying to get her attention, trying to get her to understand, but it was no use. She reared back, intent to crush his skull against the stone, but he managed to roll away and regain his feet as her hooves crashed down, smashing the pavers.

He clutched his side briefly as he came back to his feet, felt the sting, looked down and saw red. She had actually done it. She’d hurt him! It was unthinkable, inconceivable, but still she stood and snorted wild eyed and he was bleeding. No time for doubt. He watched her intently, her body telegraphing the next strike with more than enough time for him to tumble out of the way of her antlers. Essense swirling around him as he led her to the side of the courtyard, two quick hops off the corner walls to the roof, where he finally had enough space to cast his spell. The gash on his chest knit itself closed as his skin hardened into gleaming bronze, catching the late afternoon sunlight.

The spell was barely settled on his body before he was nearly shaken off balance, as the roof tiles slid and shattered below. The elk shook her head out after the blow against the wall, then backed up for a second pass. She had to be mad.

“You’re just confused. You need to calm down! Everything’s going to be fine.” he called down to her.

She stared up at him for a long moment, before lowering her head. Perhaps he’d managed to talk sense into her? The thought was barely formed in his head before she turned, charging for the coffin. No, he couldn’t let her do that. Barely thinking, he lept down onto her back, gold and silver auras blazing intermixed, and he could feel her muscles strain as she charged. In the same breath he cast again, long claws growing out from his fingers, grabbing hard on her antlers. He only had one chance to stop her.

His weight shifted to one side, as he jerked his legs around, throwing her off her balance, throwing everything he had into the grip on her antler, forcing her down on the stone pavers. Her hooves slipped, head and side slamming into the ground. Only a foot away, a vase toppled to the ground, strewing flowers on the flagstones around them.

“Enough of this madness!” He pulled her head up and slammed it back against the ground quickly, cracking the opposite antler. She thrashed beneath him, but the weight of his bronze armor pinned her to the spot. “Change back, now, before you break something important!”

She snorted defiance, head still in his grasp.

“Fine, if you’re going to act like a child,” he growled, planting his other hand firmly on her head, twisting and yanking until with a terrible snap the antler came free in his hand. Her screams echoed across the palace, pained and frantic, but he kept his voice low. “Stop fighting or I’ll keep breaking things off.”

She obeyed reluctantly, changing back to the young performer’s body, clutching at the side of her head where he’d left a wound she could not touch. She kept her eyes down.

“My spring blossom, won’t you look at your husband?”

“I don’t know you.”

It was too much. He grabbed her by the chin, made her look him in the eye. “You have to know me. Everything we did was for this! You can’t forget!”

“You hired me, your radiance,” she said nearing panic. “My father worships at your temple and I have seen your statues, but that is all I know of you, I swear!”

Furious, he dragged her to her feet, back to their bedroom, not letting go of her wrist as she trotted along barefoot behind. It took some time rummaging before he found the essence blocking manacles, and no time at all to slap them on her wrists. He grabbed her shoulders and sat her on the bed.

“You’ll stay here until you’ve come to your senses,” he said. “If that doesn’t happen by the morning, I’ll figure out how to fix you.”

She had enough self preservation not to argue or fight back. The door closed behind him, and she had no tears left to cry for herself. She’d spent them all on the dead woman.

* * *

In the morning she was different, quieter. He was slow to approach her.

“I remember now,” she said softly.

“I am so sorry, love,” he said, rushing to set her free. “You told me before that it doesn’t happen until dawn, I should have remembered.” He brought over a basin of water and soft cloth, and began washing away the makeup and dried blood from her face. “You’re beautiful.”

“You always say that,” she said, not looking him in the eye.

“You always are.” The wounds were already closing, even without her skill with poultices and needle there would be no scar. That was why she had been made for him, of course, no mortal woman could keep up with the passions of the chosen. “I don’t blame you, you know. If you’d remembered, you wouldn’t have done that.”

“Of course not, my love.” If there was a strangeness to her tone, it was easy enough for him to ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [River of Tears by Alessia Cara](https://open.spotify.com/track/5NRl32BO29q8xtWFvOlHZE)


	9. I'll Just Stay, Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Our Heroine Opts Out, and There Are Consequences

She knew. The dawn came and she knew everything, the lives she’d lived, the stars to follow, what was waiting for her at home. At the place she used to call home. She remembered all the times she had waited up like that for the sun, not knowing what drove her to keep her eyes open, all the times she had taken flight back to him.

Not this time.

It was an embarrassment, as she sat there, trying to understand how she’d let things get so bad. Blaming it on love was no excuse, he had twisted over the years. Maybe she had allowed it, helped him along this terrible path without realizing the harm she did. Whatever the reason, there was no escaping the truth. There was nothing good waiting for her in the North. And why should she leave, when she had everything she needed here? The hours were long, and the herbs were not those she’d memorized lifetimes ago, but there was a roof over her head and a village to tend to, babes to birth and elderly to comfort. Her family, her family, not the people she’d known in another life but the one who had raised her and loved her now, they could be everything she needed. At the very least, they wouldn’t put her in the ground on a whim.

And so it was for several happy months, each day somehow lighter than the last. She applied the knowledge of her past lives and the rigor of that research to the plants she grew up with here, began work on a great tome of southern plants and their properties.

* * *

It was, in retrospect, naïve to think he wouldn’t come for her as she always came for him, and yet still she found herself surprised the day she came home from the morning’s forage to find him in her house, her mother’s crumpled body at his feet, red blood still dripping from his hands. “I was worried about you,” he explained, his tone entirely too casual, “and so I went looking for you.” 

She stood in shock as he wiped his hands on a dishcloth before he went on, his tone chiding, “And just what in Creation could you have been up to that you mistakenly believed to be more important than taking your proper place?”

“How co-” was as far as she got before he had his hand around her neck, slamming her hard enough against the wall to send a glass jar tumbling to the floor to shatter, and she was pulled painfully off her feet to his eye level.

“Whatever was keeping you here, I’ll end it.” he growled, pausing to spit on the broken body on the ground before turning back to her, lips twisted in a grimace that might have been a smile. His face was close enough to hers she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks, and his smile nauseated her all the more. “I will burn this whole town to the ground, and you will cease this frivolity, and you will take. Your. Place.”

He tossed her to the blood slicked floor before turning his back. “Get ready. We’ll be leaving once I’ve finished exterminating the vermin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Run by Hozier](https://open.spotify.com/track/2AEKTA8tQnXUullpmN8NkL)


	10. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Our Heroine Confides In A Friend

Serefon Lin and Night Eyes paced quietly together through the gardens of Shallow Heart’s Repose, the two lunars free for a moment from their obligations to study and craft and their mates. It was, now that she thought about it, the first time Lin had a moment to spend with her packmate in this incarnation. The work was never ending for the lords of Creation and their closest companions. It was easy, listening to Night Eyes ramble on about secret knowledge and the relative merits of different types of candlewax, where to find the best chalk and salt for the drawing of circles, whether a sacrificial victim’s sexual history was really all that relevant to the workings of spellcraft and summoning. Shallow Heart had given her plenty of practice, and more than enough working knowledge to offer her own opinions on the minutiae. A pleasant way to spend a few free hours, to be sure. The sun shone down brightly in a cloudless sky, not too hot yet. The last vestiges of winter had not quite let go of the north, but the buds were bursting open to greet the changing seasons.

Her knee went out from under her, and she let out a curse as she scrambled to catch him for support. “I’m fine, I’m fine," she muttered. "It’ll be better in a couple days.”

“How did you even…” he stopped, the answer obvious to both of them. “There’s a bench over here, okay? Let’s just get you there and sit a while.”

She nodded, let him help her limp to the stone bench along the twisting path. Her skilled hands took stock of the damage, shifting the kneecap, massaging the calf, rotating the joint gently to correct the alignment. Her packmate watched with equal parts admiration and concern as she winced her way through the process.

“This can’t keep going on,” he finally said.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Really?”

She wilted under his doubting glare, first dropping her head into her hands and then sliding forward into a ball, knees in her chest, back against the bench. “I think I hate him.”

“Lin, of course you do, he’s awful.” Night eyes replied, pity in his voice.

“Don’t say that,” she snapped back, tears falling down her cheek now.

“It’s true.” He dropped down beside her and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her face into his shoulder. “It’s true, we all see it.”

“I just, I just,” the dam cracked and she let go, sobbing without pretense. 

He opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to tell her it would be okay, but seemed to catch himself. “Shh now,” he said, pulling her to him, “let it out.” Maybe that was his mistake. Maybe it was a mistake talking about it at all. It didn’t matter, one way or another both of them missed the sound of footsteps approaching until it was far too late.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing with my wife?” Shallow Heart boomed. His anima banner flared to life as he began sucking in essence, wind ripping wildly, tearing the early spring leaves off the ginkgos.

“Hey, pal, back off,” Night Eyes shot back. “The lady’s upset.”

“Wait, don’t!” she grabbed Night Eyes arm as he got up to face her husband, trying to stave off the inevitable. The flying guillotine caught him square in the chest, but even as it did he was shifting, gathering essence of his own.

“I’ve had about enough of your shit!” He shouted from his auroch body, huge fists glowing silver as he brought them crashing down at the Solar sorcerer, but Shallow Heart was already away, flipping backwards to alight on one of the boulders carefully arranged along the groomed path. Tiny stones erupted in a plume where Night Eyes came down on the gravel.

“You can’t beat him, please just let me talk to him I can fix all of this.” Serefon Lin pleaded to her circlemate as she rushed to her feet, attempting to get between the two men.

Shallow Heart laughed madly from his perch, essence flaring stronger than before, his hands tracing a summoning rune in the air even as they spoke. "I won't hear one word of your damned lies," he snarled.

The ground exploded, unbearable heat and the stink of brimstone flooded the garden from below, as a dozen pillars of animate magma poured upward, dwarfing the trees, casting strange shadows in the noonday sun.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin kidding me,” Night Eyes groaned, looking up into the forest of molten tentacles, just in time for one to lash down, catching Lin in the ribs and throwing her roughly into a ginko tree, where she collapsed under a rain of leaves. Her head stayed down.

Night Eyes used the opening the tentacle had presented to haul himself up into the writhing mass, shaking the small flames that had lit on the hair of his hands from grabbing hold of the searing-hot tentacle, just managing to dodge as more whipped down at him, ignoring the insults Shallow Heart threw at him. He came to the peak of the mass and lunged down at Shallow Heart, but a tentacle struck him with a glancing blow, knocking him off target and so instead of coming down to gore the Solar, he tumbled, landing badly, but managed to roll so that he came up on his feet a yard or more away from the other man.

Shallow Heart laughed in derision as he slowly closed on the Lunar, reaching to draw his sword from Elsewhere. “I thought you might at least put up a little fight, but I suppose I’ll just have to get my day’s exercise in some other way,” he taunted, taking his eyes off his opponent and glancing in the direction of his wife, still sprawled against the tree trunk.

Night Eyes saw his opening and took it, casting Claws of the Wood Dragon and lashing out at Shallow Heart’s face. Heart saw the attack too late to dodge, and threw his arm up to catch the blow, the claws ripping through his fine white shirt and into flesh before he could jump backwards and away.

Shallow Heart looked down at his arm, at the blood stain spreading on the sleeve and dripping down from the cuff. “You’ve played right into my hands!” he smiled savagely. “Your pathetic attempt to catch me off guard has only given me more weapons to bear.” With a word of power he whipped his injured arm down, blood spraying from the wound in an arc against the ground. With a forward flip, he pulled the blood back off the ground as a whip, cracking it in the air towards Night Eyes.

The Lunar charged, attempting to close the distance, to wipe the smug smile off the fucker’s face, but a tentacle struck at him again, sending him flying and cracking ribs. He landed roughly, his attempt to roll back to his feet thwarted by a boulder in his path.

Lin groaned from beneath the ginko’s fallen canopy, willing herself to get up, to fight. Everything hurt as she struggled to draw breath, as she leaned on the cracked trunk to get to her feet. The dizziness was almost too much to bear. More of the tentacles lashed down on Night Eyes, overwhelming his defenses. Lin steeled herself to rejoin the fray, to force her way between her circlemate and her husband’s wrath. She barely made it out from under the tree before she screamed in pain, her injured leg collapsing back to the ground.

Heart smiled an absolutely sickening smile at her as the Blood lash cracked down on Night eyes, sending a crimson spray into the air.

“You’ve proven your point, okay? Let him go!” She called out to her husband, pleading, all the while trying to regain her feet.

“Oh, I think not,” Shallow Heart replied, his smile turning savage as he turned his attention back to the limp body of his opponent. With a gesture, one of the steaming magma limbs picked up Night Eyes’ auroch body as easily as a child would pick up a doll, and smashed it down against the boulder he’d crashed into with a sickening crunch. The tentacle drew back and slammed the lifeless body harder into the rock again and again, finally tossing it away with casual disdain. 

Lin gave up fighting gravity, letting herself collapse on the utterly destroyed pathway, cries echoing through the garden as the magma kraken hissed and cracked, slowly cooling and solidifying. Her husband approached her, a spring to his step even with the wound on his arm. She glared up at him. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“And you didn’t have to betray my trust. Yet-” he spread his arms out, indicating the ruins of the garden around them, “-here we are.”

“What in the gods’ name… you really are mad, you know that?”

He grabbed her wrist, painfully tight, pulling her back up on her unsteady feet. “In case you’ve forgotten, you are mine. What else am I supposed to think when I walk in and find you in the arms of another man?”

“First off!” she got her free hand in his face, pointing so close he could have bit her finger off. “I see you in bed with your cirlcemates all the bloody time, and I’ve never stopped you. Don’t pretend—”

“That’s different.”

“Unconquered balls it is!” Let him fucking kill her again, let him fucking try.

He smiled, but there was something wrong with it, something uncertain. “It’s good to see you riled up about something for a change,” he covered. Just as quickly as it started, it was over. He let her wrist go and walked away, seemingly oblivious to the body and her furious tears. “Meet me for tea after you’ve cleaned up.”

* * *

There was no word for the madness that made her follow his command. Listless, she sent the servants to retrieve Night Eyes’ body and make the preparations, took off her bloodied clothing and scrubbed her skin raw in the bath. She couldn’t turn the water hot enough. Eventually one of the maids pulled her from the tub, put her in a pink robe she’d never much cared for but couldn’t bring herself to object to now.

Shallow Heart sat, bathed and changed himself, tea service prepared for the two of them. She took her place without a word.

“I’ve spoken with Radiant Bitterness,” he said as he poured her cup. “She’s not happy with me for taking her husband. It’s different for them, you know.”

“The preparations for the funeral should be underway,” Lin answered meekly. She took the teapot and poured for her husband.

“Thank you for seeing to that.” He said, taking the cup in both hands and blowing the steam before taking a sip. “Unfortunately, she’s asked for more compensation than just the practical.”

“What do you mean?”

“She wants revenge.”

Gods, let the two of them rip each other to pieces, she prayed with very little guilt in her heart. “I hope we can give her what she needs. She must be devastated.”

“Indeed. That’s why I’ve agreed to let her hunt you.”

“WHAT?”

“Keep your voice down, dear, it’s unseemly.”

“How could you?”

“It’s fair, isn’t it? I killed her husband, she kills my wife,” he said, taking another drink while she sat too horrified to move. “You said yourself you wanted to give her what she needs, I thought you’d be happy. In any case, she promised she won’t start until we’re finished here, so I suggest you settle down and enjoy the time we have.” He leaned over the low table and kissed her forehead, and it was all she could do - for several reasons - to keep from throwing up down the front of his robes.

There was nothing in all of Creation she wanted more than to run away from the table that second, but with that kind of arrangement, she knew leaving would mean an even worse death. They had a game to play with her, and she would be punished if she didn’t play the part. She picked up her tea and took a hesitant sip.

“There’s a girl,” he cheered. “That’s what I love about you, my dearest, you’re so accommodating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Parhelion by Ursine Vulpine](https://open.spotify.com/track/3o1hNVpoDcPDeH1oRoCaeO)


	11. The Scientist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Things Are Fixed

He had been waiting for her. Watching the stars, no doubt, to track the progress of her return. She hadn’t wasted much time, making a long haul flight as soon as she’d picked up a form with the wings to carry her. It was all routine, now. He wore his formal robes, greeted her with all the ceremony and detached decorum appropriate to their station, allowed her to excuse herself to get cleaned up from the long journey. Her finest robes were laid out on the bed waiting for her. Fortunately they fit this body more or less as well as the last one.

Despite the chill without, the courtyard was kept warm and clear of the late snows. He was alone at the table, tea service waiting for her. There was nothing to do but take her place.

“Good to see you home again so soon,” he said with a smile, looking her up and down as she made her way to the table. It was all she could do not to flinch as he took her hand. Having taken her measure, he locked his eyes on hers. “You’re beautiful,” he declared, proud as if he’d been delivered a particularly fine wardrobe.

“You always say that.” She wanted to smash the teapot over his head.

“You always are!” he clucked, pleased with himself. Turning his attention to the tea ceremony, he let her hand go and the levity vanished from his tone. “We need to talk.” 

“I did what you asked.”

“My dear, you know that’s not enough.”

Blue Eyed Maelstrom seethed. Of course, it wasn’t enough. She’d only died for him, again, for something he’d done to hurt her. How could she possibly have thought that would be enough. If it weren’t for the people he would have slaughtered back in Tideholme she never would have come back here. But here she was, the same place she’d been for how many decades now? Centuries, had to be. It was getting hard to keep straight, to remember what face she was wearing when which thing happened. The journals she was keeping helped somewhat, but it was so hard to sort. Still stuck with him. Gods, how long had it been since she wanted to be here? Since she had a choice? “Tell me what needs to happen.”

“You broke my trust, made a fool of me.” It was a calm statement of fact, not an accusation, and all the more maddening for it. “Made fools of us. I think it’s obvious that you’re not thinking clearly.”

“I did nothing wrong.” She wanted to scream at him, but it would hardly help. 

“I caught you in the arms of another man.”

“You caught me talking to my packmate! I’m allowed to have friends, same as you are.”

“If I’d walked in any later I would have found you with your head between his legs.” He sighed, sounding more exasperated than angry. 

Her jaw dropped, speechless at the audacity.

“See? You can’t even deny it.”

“I’m going to go,” the words were out of her mouth before she gave it any thought, and now they were out there she had no choice but to follow through. She didn’t have to go back to Tideholme, after all, she could go anywhere in Creation. She didn’t have to stay put long enough for him to punish someone else. The wind and tides could take her anywhere at all. She stood.

“You will do no such thing,” He said, grabbing her arm and pulling her slightly to drive the point home. “There was a time when you were happy, when you wouldn’t have these treacherous thoughts. I was thinking about this while you were away. Clearly you are experiencing some unexpected side effects from my experiments, you’re not entirely yourself. But I can fix it, of that I have no doubt.”

“You’ve done enough. Find someone else to test on.” She pulled her arm, trying to free herself as she shifted into a tern.

He squeezed down as she shifted, breaking her wing before she could escape his clutches. “Enough with this! You will do as you are told. You are broken,” He said, dropping her to the ground. “And I can fix you. I will fix you, and you will be yourself again.”

She squawked, and the sound did terrible things as she shifted again, skipping right past her human form and up to the great elk. There hadn’t been enough time before she got here to pick up a body better suited for fighting, and like hell she was going down without a fight. Leveling her horns, one leg still shattered in his hands, she snorted defiantly. 

There was an explosion of essence as an arrow buried itself in her flank. “I told you she wouldn’t go down easy, Heart,” Radiant Bitterness laughed from the rooftop. 

“I never denied it,” he called to his circlemate. Grabbing a sword from elsewhere, he turned to his mate. “Now, are you ready to cooperate, or do I need to pin you down?”

She knew how he fought, how both of them fought together. She had no delusions of her chances. Reluctantly, she shifted back to her human form, arm still broken, arrow still stuck well in her ribs. “Just kill me already.”

“Oh, love, that’s the illness talking. It’s true you won’t live long,” he said, casually knocking a hand against the arrow shaft, “but you need to remember I’m not doing this to hurt you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Lorde](https://open.spotify.com/track/3S1tTwSKIZgf4QGltFyCxM)


	12. Heart-Shaped Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Things Get Worse

She didn’t remember everything. No, there was a gap, she could feel it, something was lost. The exaltation was still fresh in her mind, but how long had it been from when she last saw her husband? What had that bastard- she couldn’t finish the thought, something like an icepick in her brain struck hard and brought her to her knees, clutching her head. She cursed violently, making full use of this incarnation’s history on the northern seas. With every angry thought, with every unfinished accusation, the pain jabbed harder, driving her further into anger and madness until she could not see for the tears, could not speak, could not think.

 _If I find him it will stop_. The thought came almost unbidden, cutting through the pain. It will stop. The thought buoyed her, and she took to the road, not bothering to pack or even dress properly for the trip.

* * *

He was waiting for her when she arrived. She knew he would be. What was unexpected was how disheveled he looked, how worried. She tried to make it to her perch on the back of her chair but she was so exhausted from the flight, it seemed like miles away. Gently, he plucked her out of the air, wrapping her small form in his arms like an infant.

“It’s okay,” he cooed. “You’re home now.”

She wanted to slap him, to rip his throat- the pain was overwhelming, and she realized the ringing in her ears was from her own screeching, wordless and shrill.

“You have to shift back, I can’t understand you.” His tone was soft and patient, paternal. He was right, damn him. A fresh round of pain slammed into her as she shifted in his arms, the sound coming out of her beak-then-mouth barely becoming more coherent in the process. “Just breathe,” he said, lowering himself to his knee to rest some of her weight on the flagstones. He barely needed to, the journey had left her rail thin. She’d barely stopped for water on the way, hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten save for the barn owl whose form she stole.

“I hate you.” He frowned for a moment but the pain hit her harder than anything he could have said or done. She couldn’t fight. “Make it stop!”

“Oh, love, it’s going to be alright.”

“Please make it stop,” she begged, burying her face in his chest.

“I’ll tell you the secret, okay? And you’ll see you can stop it. Take a breath, take a breath.”

She breathed, felt the air in her nose, in her chest, driving out the panic. Just like she would show the women when the time came for birth. Pain is a thought, and you can think less of it.

“There’s my girl.” He stroked her hair gently as her breathing slowly became more steady. “Just like that,” he added, brushing aside the hair from her forehead to bend to kiss her. “Do you remember when we went to that ceremony for the Duke of Gethamane?”

“The wedding?” She asked, her voice hoarse. 

“Theirs, not ours,” he clarified, almost too quickly.

“I know, I know.”

“You insisted that we dress down, you didn’t want to outshine the bride,” he said, speaking slowly, keeping his voice low and gentle, in the same way she always imagined he might speak to their child some dark night when the nightmares came. The child they never had. It hurt to think about that, too.

“It was her day, ” she replied weakly, dragging herself back to that one memory, that one happy day. 

“You wore plum,” he countered with a smile. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you wearing the same color as your name.” 

“I don’t remember you complaining.” She was still just as quick, they used to play these games all the time and it was reflex, but she had nothing to back it up anymore.

“Why would I? You were beautiful.”

The image in her mind solidified, the two of them alighting from their howdah, her shooing away the attendant to straighten his jacket herself, his hand squeezing hers before they went out to be announced. “We were.” A smile slowly inched across her face, then cracked and she began to cry. “What happened to us?”

“Oh, love, it’s okay.”

She knew what happened, she knew it, but thinking about it made the pain come back and it was just getting better. “It’s not okay!” She wanted so badly to hold onto the truth but it hurt so much even to think.

He squeezed her tighter. “You’re so brave, my little doe. I can’t imagine all you’ve gone through for my work. I promise you it will be worth it, I promise. I just, I just couldn’t let you forget me like that. I couldn’t go on with you looking at me that way, and now we don’t have to. You’ll remember, and any time things start to go wrong you can just remember it again and it’ll be fine. I promise you, when this is all done, it will all be like it was.”

She clung to him like a shipwreck, trying to focus on the memory instead of hating him for what he’d done, trying to stay whole. For a long time there was no sound, no world around them, only her wracked breathing and his steady shushing, the feeling of his arms around her, the sound of his heart beating. Oh, how she’d love to tear it out- but she couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought as the pain rushed back in.

“That’s the trick, then?” She asked. “Just think of the wedding?”

“Anytime we were together and you were happy,” he said, still softly rocking her. “Anything that made you happy to be here. That was the day I knew I would love you until Creation falls, and you knew it too. I just want you to remember.”

“A happy memory, then?”

“If you can think of something pleasant about us right now, that should work too.”

It’s a trap, a part of her mind insisted. It wanted her to stay angry, to power through, but hadn’t he proven time and again that she couldn’t fight him? She was so tired, so bone achingly exhausted, she deserved a break. She deserved to feel good for a moment, didn’t she? 

He stroked a stray hair off her face, cradling her cheek in his hand the way he’d done so many times before. There was a wince, a little jab of pain, as the voice in the back of her head screamed to fight it, but fighting hurt. She turned her face into his hand, planting a little kiss on the first patch of skin her lips brushed against. He had the sense not to speak, not to interrupt the battle she was losing in her head. Was winning, maybe, if she looked at it the way he wanted. He pulled her closer, nuzzling her neck. If she just lost herself in it, if she just let herself feel his breath on her skin, it didn’t have to be so bad.

* * *

Afterward he carried her to her bed, tucked her in gently still wearing the ruined nightclothes she’d had on that dawn she woke. It almost scared him to see her so fragile, featherlight and exhausted. It took him a moment to find one of the servants conspicuously avoiding the courtyard. His wife would have remembered the man’s name.

“Have the kitchen prepare several small meals over the next few days for my wife,” he instructed. “She’s not well.” The man nodded and began retreating backwards before Shallow Heart took his arm. “Tell them to bring the food to me. I will take care of her.”

“Yes, my lord.” He let the servant leave, then went to look back in on his wife.

She was sleeping. She needed the sleep. And he would keep her safe, and make her well again, and she would know her place was here. Everything would finally be right again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [The Orchestral version of Heart-Shaped Box by Ramin Djawadi](https://open.spotify.com/track/0OSfLPEQb1PLL0Q0C2xZVE)


	13. Change Of Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in Which Hope Springs Eternal

Traces the Sky paced on the balcony, cursing the daylight. She knew he was coming home, knew he was alive again, but she could not see his star and the waiting was driving her mad. It was strange, to be the one waiting. How many times had he paced their home like this, looking first for her star in the sky, and later the faintest speck on the horizon marking her flight? They had both known the experiment would not be a quick one, but perhaps if they’d realized just how long it would be when they’d started, or what it would cost them…. No, she didn’t need to think about that. Thinking about that might lead her to other things, and while she had no one to hide the headache from if she should trigger it, she didn’t particularly enjoy them either way. Best not to think about it.

She was so busy not thinking about it, she didn’t even hear the maid who came running up the stairs to tell her a caravan had arrived at the gates. Traces the Sky ran after her to the entryway, fussing with her robe and hair as she reached the bottom of the stairs. It wouldn’t do to look disheveled for him. A fear she refused to name gnawed at her as she made her way the last few paces to the open gates, knowing who she’d find.

“-Yes, and ensure they’re well compensated for their troubles. This was out of their way, after all,” she heard a man instructing one of the servants as she stepped into the chill morning air. He turned to her with an easy grin, and she knew him.

“Look at you!”

“I know, isn’t it something?” he laughed, slapping his belly with both hands and shaking it. There was plenty of strength on that frame, but a layer of softness he’d never had before. “Did pretty well for myself, if I do say so, but this is definitely going to have to go before we invite Ivory Tyrant over again. I’ll never hear the end of it!”

“What should I call you?”

“Well,” he scratched his head sheepishly, mussing the shock of red hair. “My name is Kolkat Wen, had it all these 28 years now, but that really won’t do, will it? That’s a farmer’s name. Don’t worry your head about it, though, I’ll come up with something more fitting.”

She nodded agreement, not daring to suggest that she rather liked the name. “Should we go in? You surely must be tired from your journey.”

He took the lead, and the pair walked back through the door. “It’s so strange, just like you said it. I can still remember my whole life I lived as a farmer. I grew radishes, can you believe it? Radishes and celery cabbage! But I remember this place, and the experiments, and you.” He stopped, taking her hand in his and looking deep in her eyes with such a soulful neediness she could not break away. He dropped to his knees, right there in the hallway.

“What are you doing?”

“My dearest, my love, I see now all the things you’ve been through, all the things you’ve endured for me over the centuries. I know, I know some of it was unavoidable, but seeing our history through new eyes, oh, my jewel.” He kissed her hand in supplication. “I have been terrible to you. I don’t know how I can ever forgive myself, I don’t know how you’ve forgiven me for it.”

She smiled and let out a small laugh in response, trying her best to keep the strain off her face. This had to be a test. 

“I swear, things will be different from now on. I understand everything. I’ll never do those things to you again.”

“Please, please get up,” she begged quietly, not knowing how to deal with any of this and terrified she would do something wrong. He stood, still searching for her approval. She pulled him close to her, burying her face in his soft, broad shoulder. He squeezed her tight, resting his head in the crook of her neck.

“I just want us to be okay,” he said softly. “You are everything to me.”

“Can you-” she winced. Not like that, then, too accusatory. She’d have to change the way she said it. “Do you think I’m well enough to get this thing out of my head?”

“Oh! Oh yes of course!” He pulled away just enough to see her, hands tight around her shoulders. “That whole episode was just, just completely uncalled for! I can get it out and you’ll forgive me and everything will go back to the way it was, yes of course!”

They resumed their walk into the courtyard.

“I will say, it’s going to take some time to do properly. I just couldn’t bear the thought of doing you more harm. Sometimes it seems like every time I touch you I make things worse! I couldn’t live with the guilt. No, I’ll start doing the research right away, and it’ll be done safely.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

* * *

The season of Air gave way to the Season of Earth, and a warm spring wind blew lazily through the open window of the workshop as Traces the Sky brought new candles to her husband.

“Just set those candles there, would you dear? These ones are all but spent.”

She placed them as he instructed, cleared her throat nervously. “I don’t suppose there’s been any progress?”

“A great deal of progress, I should say! With any luck I’ll have the inculcation of will cracked within the season.” He beamed at her before turning back to the notes he was working on.

She bit her lip, working up the courage to reply. “I meant… the thing in my head?”

“Oh, OH!” He stood, pushing the chair out behind him in his rush and came around the table to her, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “I am so sorry my blossom, it completely slipped my mind! You see I started working on it and one of the problems there was so similar to this old one that had been nagging at me for decades, and now that I have all these new perspectives - oh, but that’s a piss-poor excuse. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

“It’s okay, Wen.” she told him, reaching across herself to place her hand on his.

“You mustn’t call me that anymore. That’s a farmer’s name.” He shook his head. “No, I thought I sent word but I suppose the servants didn’t think to tell you, it’s to be Rebirth of Glory. Fitting, isn’t it?”

“I-” she caught herself. “Yes, love.”

“I’ve already sent for the sculptors, we’ll have a new one done, now that I’ve lost some of that paunch. Ha! Can you imagine, saving that image for posterity?” He dropped his hand from her shoulder, miming the weight he’d lost with both hands. “You should pose for one, too! We should be together, always.”

“We will be,” she said with a slightly strained smile. “Always.”

* * *

The season of fire came and went, and winter battered at the palace door. It was comfortable within the walls, where the heaters hummed quietly and gardens grew throughout the year, well stocked with all the things she might otherwise need to venture into the countryside to forage. She could only think of that as a thoughtful gesture by her husband.

He found her in the garden, and scooped her up from where she knelt tending to a plant to set her on her feet. “Fantastic news! It took longer than I thought, but I’ve made a breakthrough!”

“Oh! That’s wonderful!” She said, beaming with genuine happiness that she might soon be free of her burden. “When will you be ready to test?”

“I already have! Things still need to be tweaked, but soon enough I’ll have that perpetual blossoming cherry tree producing full ripe fruit!” Her face fell, and the look of triumph froze on his face. “I thought you’d be excited?”

“It’s just - I thought you were working on dealing with that thing in my head.”

“Oh, love,” he said, taking her head into his hands and she tried not to wince, “It’s complicated. I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you more than I already have, and it’s such delicate work, so much could go wrong. I haven’t seen you trip it in ages! Not at all, since I’ve been back. Since it doesn’t seem to be doing you any harm, I think it’s just safer to leave well enough alone, don’t you think?” He asked with a smile. “Now, why don’t you leave these weeds to the servants and fetch us some tea?”

* * *

It would be a lie to say no part of her hated him, but that part was well contained. She had gotten so good at controlling it, since he’d forced her to. And wasn’t it true that he’d been kinder since he’d come back? He never threatened her, never raised his voice. There had been no deaths in the palace this whole time, hers or the servants. Maybe it really would be different now. Maybe this new person he was would keep the worst of his excesses in check, would be kind and reasonable. Maybe he meant the things he said, and everything would be okay, even with this thing in her head.

It was. For a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [We Never Change by Coldplay](https://open.spotify.com/track/5TB6QgrF0RPIxSCGfRDLoe?si=nRsO_zJCS_S8d2m0M-Q-pw)


	14. The White Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which A Great Many Things Are Forgotten, And Remembered

She wore the white of mourning, from her beaded veil to the leather of her boots, ostentatious in her grieving. All of Creation would know what had been done to her. She would not be caught wanting in her widowhood. She would get him back, and he would know that she was the one who had saved him, who had pulled him out of that cursed prison, who had torn down every god and demon between the two of them. He would know, and he would finally be happy with her. 

Her pack huddled together in the dark room, furnace barely keeping out the chill. She paced a tight loop on the floorboards like a caged animal. 

“I know exactly where he is! What the hell are we waiting for?” she finally burst out.

“Neri-” Howl of Twilight stopped himself mid-thought. “Wait, that was last incarnation what’s your name now?”

“Who cares? Who fucking cares?” She threw her arms up in frustration at the lot of them.

“This isn’t okay,” Howl of Twilight scolded.

“What they did to us isn’t okay,” she snapped. “What’s happening right now isn’t okay, him being in there and me out here is not okay. Don’t you want them back?”

“We’ve done this already,” The Scholar Of The Black Manse sighed.

Fuck The Sidereals nodded agreement. “Once we have some idea of where they are-”

“I KNOW where they are!”

“For the last time, you don’t. We looked everywhere in that patch of ocean, top to bottom. They must have broken his connection to that star when they grabbed him and it just went back.”

“He’s there!” She insisted.

“Even if you’re right-” the tone suggested they all thought she was anything but “- The rest of the Silver Pact is done with this wild goose chase. We won’t have any support once we find the damn thing.” 

“What does that matter? We go back, we find how they hid it, we smash whatever’s in our way, however many tries that takes.”

“Listen, whatever the fuck you’re calling yourself now, the rest of us don’t have the luxury of indulging in this kind of suicidal nonsense without losing quite a bit of ourselves in the process. Why don’t you just-”

“You’re right, I should just leave.” She grabbed her bow and a small bag for her journal.

The Scholar stood, making to block her path.

“Let her go,” Howl of Twilight called from his seat. Reluctantly, The Scholar stepped aside, freeing her path.  
She turned at the doorway, staring down her pack. “I’ll get him back,” she said with certainty before wandering off into the cold and dark of the night.

* * *

She wore white, a patchwork of sail canvas salvaged from the wreck. This time she’d incarnated closer to him, a relief to be sure. Hauling across all of Creation every time she got herself eaten by something large and toothy in the deep was wearing on her nerves. It was fine that she was doing this alone, better even than doing it with the others. Sure, she didn’t have anyone to play lookout, anyone to hunt and tend camp while the others looked, but there was no complaining either, no questioning what she knew. 

However they were hiding his imprisoned soul was subtle, and thorough. This was no hack job, no rogue act. The scum of heaven must have spent years planning how to hide this thing. But they were not her husband. The sorcery he’d used to tie himself to that star, to tie her to him, they could never hope to touch that. 

The seafloor below was bleak and barren, the spot marked was a trench deeper than any she’d seen, and the perpetually lightless depths offered no clues to any pair of eyes she stole to see with. More than one life she’d spent down there, barely making the time to surface now and then. The concepts of time and seasons would fade away in her mind and leave nothing but the scouring of the deep.

For now she floated, looking up at the night sky, at his star overhead. For the first time in a long time, she let herself think. He was here, she knew that. She could not see anywhere he could be, could not sense any irregularities with the essense flows, could find no secret manse or magic circle. Fine, they were hiding him. The Maiden of Secrets surely could hide something in ways an exalt might miss, even one well versed in the matters of the occult. But this plan had been too large, had involved too many people. Someone, somewhere, would have made a mistake. The Sidereals surely would have preferred to work alone, but they had needed the Dragonbloods to do their dirty work.

Which meant if there were answers to be found, they would be in the records of the Dynasts and the Immaculate Order. If she was going to get to the bottom of this, she would need to confront them head on.

* * *

She wore the white of mourning, now stained with grays and rusty browns from the dirt and blood of battle. Her jailers couldn’t restrain themselves. “Haven’t you learned anything, anathema?”

“I’ve learned plenty, son of Mnemon,” she growled back. The face looked familiar but she couldn’t tell whether she’d seen this one before. All the terrestrials were starting to look the same to her.

“Maybe this time you’ll learn to stay dead,” he snorted, slamming the cell door behind him. It would be a few days before her execution, if they were running on the usual schedule. The widow weighed her options between attempting an escape and waiting to reincarnate. The chains jangled as she fussed, but it was more to stave off the boredom. The gallows would set her free soon enough.

* * *

She wore white, the finest silks and jade beading pilfered from her parents’ closet. The family crest burned like a brand on her back, but it was her ticket into the libraries that had been closed to her other incarnations. She slouched, nose deep in a tome of magical theory, shaking her head in frustration. This was nowhere near the level she was used to dealing with when her husband would ask her to take notes. The dynasts were children in comparison. 

She was just about to put the book away in disgust and chalk this up to another dead end when a man sat down across from her.  
“What are you doing?” he asked with presumptive familiarity.

“Research,” she replied coolly, doing her best to ignore him.

“I can see that,” He said, ignoring the attempt to shut him down. “Can you tell me your name?”

It was so hard to remember her names. Normally she wouldn’t bother, but questions like this were inevitable in her current state. “It’s Nellens Eurazd,” she said after a pause a heartbeat too long, and a glance at the scrawl on her wrist that she hoped the interloper hadn’t seen.

He nodded, tight lipped and stern. “And can you tell me, Eurazd, who you’re mourning?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” she said shortly. “But if you must know, my fiance passed away recently. It was very sudden.” She glared at him, willing him to go away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me....” she gestured to the book, “Research.”

He stared at her incredulously before leaning over the table and snatching the book out of her hands. “Who do you think I am?” he asked, voice soft and dangerous.

She locked eyes with the dynast, willing herself to remember. No, she’d made up the fiancee, hadn’t she? He couldn’t be, she couldn’t have been that sloppy? The anger and betrayal in his eyes was an answer impossible to misread. Figures emerged from behind the shelves of books, draped in the robes of Immaculate order, execution in their eyes. The Wild Hunt had found her already.

The man who had been her fiance before her second breath squeezed her hand gently, drawing her attention back to him. “If there’s anything of you left in there, Eurazd, I am sorry.” He looked as though he meant it. He looked like a man who would be wearing white soon.

She shoved her chair backward, already shifting forms. There was no escape, but she could take a few of them down with her. The animas of the Wild Hunt sprung into life, and the quiet library erupted into chaos and violence.

* * *

The only light at this depth came from her caste mark, a faint silver glow in the perpetual night of the ocean floor. It illuminated tiny flakes of marine snow like a sunbeam in a dusty room. She was wearing one of her least favorite forms, a bottom dwelling fish with terrible, wild eyes and ragged skin. What it did have, though, were feet, which she used to count her paces across the spot where she knew he had to be.

It had been months, seasons, maybe longer, since she settled on the seafloor, since she set herself to the task of marking her ugly steps. The rest of the lunars had already searched here, up and down, but they must have missed something. She knew it. There was nothing in the libraries of the Dragonbloods, no secrets she could glean from breaking kneecaps in the Heavenly City of Yu Shan, no spell she could find and undo. There was no evidence of anything at all. Fucking Sidereals.

So she was left alone, small and unpleasant, surviving on what she could catch when she remembered she needed to eat. Sometimes a piece of bleached skin from some other creature’s kill would float down to her, and she would remember the white she wore.

It was a small thing, really. A moment she could have easily missed, that she HAD missed, over and over again. How long had she been combing through this spot? How many times in how many bodies had she come down here to search? But this time she saw. She meant to step forward, but had taken a step to the side instead. Her beady eyes scanned the floor ahead of her, where she would have stepped. Behind her, all around, the seafloor was trampled with her patient, plodding footprints, but not a single one crossed this line.

It was clever magic, subtle, but once seen it couldn’t stop her. She stepped across the line she had been avoiding for so long, and immediately fell to dry earth. She gasped, the pocket of air she’d stepped into unexpected, and changed quickly back to her human form before she suffocated.

She had been prepared for any number of things. Guards that would have to be dealt with. Boobytraps she’d have to tear her way through. Things that would have to be undone. Any number of things, but not this. The air was stale, she could already feel herself getting light headed. But she was so close now.

The thing before her, nestled in its bubble of nothing, could only be described as massive. A perfect cube of hewn Jade, fifty cubits on each side, inlaid with precious starmetal and covered nearly on every inch of its surface with tightly packed writing. She stepped forward, putting her hand to the cold stone, tracing the letters. Fragments of a spell scrawled across the vast wall of jade before her, and a warning. “These walls are too thick, the magics too strong. None may break this Jade Prison that yet live in Creation.”

An exaltation is a small thing, she knew. She had stormed the home of Lytek, had seen the precious little glowing things. They couldn’t need more than a few feet to store them all. The walls were thick. The magics strong. She felt her breath coming faster, her lungs demanding more from the tired air than it could provide. 

She beat her fists against the smooth, unyielding jade, tears falling freely to stain the pristine white dress she wore in mourning. In time, she slumped against the stone, chest heaving the dead air in and out to no avail.

And then all was still.

* * *

She wore the white of mourning, dress tattered and stained from the violence of her capture, boots gone missing sometime between that fight and when she awoke in chains. It was hard to know if she had been in this particular cell before, there had been so many jails over the years. From the fog of a millenia and a half of memory she tried to recall exactly who was holding her this time, as if it mattered. She was alone, and the chains might hold her in this form, but they couldn’t stop her from smashing her hand to pieces, from wrapping the links around her neck. She’d reincarnate in another body, try again. She had no other choices. Death hardly scared her after all this time.

The door to her left opened with a slight creak, and a willowy woman in grey entered. Her slippered feet barely made a sound on the floor as she approached the captured woman, looking on her with a mix of fear and pity.

“Your plight is not unknown to Heaven,” she said. “There are some of us who, when the time came to make our decision, were thinking of people like you. It doesn’t sit well with us that his shadow should still be over you.”

“You know nothing.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “That is so far from true.” Delicate fingers, bookkeeper’s fingers, took the widow’s chin and tilted her head up gently. Even with the chains, she could have broken the woman’s hand, but for a moment she would listen. “Of the things that I know relevant to you, there are a few you should know as well. The first is that you have fulfilled a remarkably stupid promise you made long ago, and should no longer feel bound by it.”

“What does that mean.” She hardly asked it, voice flatly hostile.

“A thousand times, you promised him,” she said. “And when you die in this cell that will be the thousandth time. You can stop.”

Something screeched in her head at the thought. With barely a thought she redirected the anger setting off that wall of pain, turned it on the woman in front of her instead of… How could she pretend to know what a widow owed her husband? How could—

“Oh, dear, that is quite bad isn’t it?” she interrupted. Grasping at the air, she found a strand of essence that connected to the wall dug deep into the widow’s tortured head. With her other hand she traced glowing runes in the air, a spell unfamiliar to the sorcerer’s wife, mumbling under her breath until she seemed content. Still holding the anchor, she slapped the rune onto the widow’s forehead, right where her caste mark would show. “I can’t destroy what he did to you, but that will be enough to buy you some time on your next reincarnation. Find your circlemates. They can do the rest. They’ve been waiting for you to come home.”

“My home is with my husband.”

“How long has it been since that man treated you as a husband should his wife?”

In her chains she winced reflexively, knowing the pain that came with such questions, such doubt, but strangely it did not come. In fact, she felt better than she had in years, in centuries. The fog lifted from her mind, and she remembered exactly where she was, and how she came to be there. The woman nodded, seemingly happy with her work.

The widow, with her senses restored, was less than pleased. “How could you do this to me? How could you?” she screamed, balling her hand into a tight fist, straining every muscle as tight as she could and slamming it into the stone wall over and over, waiting for the bones to crack.

“I’m helping you!” The woman had expected relief, or maybe grief, but she was unprepared for the display before her.

“Do you even know where you are?” The pain hardly registered. Her broken hand slipped through the manacle, and she went to work on the other.

The celestial bureaucrat looked on in horror. “The fortress of the Dowager of the Irreverent Vulgate in Unrent Veils,” she answered without thinking.

“You come here, you knew that thing was in my head all this time and you wait until now? You come here to rescue me?” A second terrible crunch and her second useless hand squirmed painfully from its manacle. The prisons here were not up to the standards of the Realm, hadn’t been tested as frequently and thoroughly by her single minded incarnations. There was no collar on her neck, no further barriers to her essence. She bathed the tiny cell in silver, strengthening her body enough to withstand the transformation, to make the meddling woman regret what she’d done. “It’s too late now. You could have pulled that thing out of me any time but you waited until it was too late. I told her everything.”

“Wha— the Dowager?” she asked, eyes wide with shock. “You gave up the Jade Prison to one of the Deathlords?”

“I couldn’t break it open, not even if I had the whole Silver Pact at my back, but they can. They’re the only thing left in creation strong enough to get through. Now she knows exactly where it is, every secret I died learning, she has it all!”

“But why?” The immediate danger before her in the form of the angry Lunar suddenly seemed irrelevant. Her eyes dropped to the floor as she mentally plotted out new trajectories for herself, for Creation. Everything that she had planned, all of her empathy and all the suffering, it had been twisted around again by hands as busy as hers, to ends she could only now see clearly. It was a cruel hand fate had dealt her, had dealt the pair of them.

“Because I thought I’d never get that thing out of my head without him!” No more talking. She took her giant elk form, front limbs broken and screaming in pain. It didn't matter. She charged, head down and bellowing terribly. The bureaucrat dodged ably, but she was no warrior. The widow fought wildly, without sense or self preservation. She fought to die, and to bring as many people with her as she could. When the guards came to find her, she found her release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has [a soundtrack](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7pwrfBaLyWl4AVKZEUtGKN) and [cover art](https://qgpennyworth.com/portfolio/the-white-widow/)!
> 
> For a good song to pair with this chapter, I suggest [Vengance by Zack Hemsey](https://open.spotify.com/track/5KH9kPpOZZV2WkJj6WWt1O)


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